


Facility 1

by FishLeather



Category: Original Work, Sci-Fi - Fandom
Genre: Drugs, First Person, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sci-Fi, drugged, non-con, tazer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 05:45:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11730711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FishLeather/pseuds/FishLeather
Summary: Hum. Hmm.





	Facility 1

They gasped for air, jerking upwards as the room lurched and their vision danced between having wisps of blindspots and being consumed by darkness.

They lay back down, vision returning slowly as they remembered to steady their breathing. Their bed was awfully cold. They sat up, slowly, palms resting on the sheet of wax-paper covering the examination table. 

A memory. A curve against a throat, light and burning, freezing then numbness like the time they gave their scarf to the snowman as a child. They raised a finger to ghost it just under their chin. Hesitation. Where were they?

===============

The light's humming pushed them out of contemplation. There was a flicker, before darkness hugged them again. Where would it take them?

Wait. No. They moved their fingers experimentally before stretching their shoulders. They were aware. They could move. The humming was gone. There was fear, pounding in their chest like they had felt somewhere a long time ago, it felt like a lifetime ago. The light had simply been disabled.

A ragged sigh escaped before they could clap both hands around their mouth. Had it heard them? They strained their ears for a sign. Of... anything.

They unthinkingly raised a hand to touch the front of their neck. Nothing. What had they expected? A bump? A gash? Some grizzly railroad line from needles that they had feared?

It was still dark, not that light would mystically let them see their own neck. But it would have made them aware of the dye on their hands, marking them as a class B subject. Aware, but only just. Weak, but not the weakest. As if it mattered to any of those things.

===================

They layed back down in the darkness. The room swayed and they would have sworn feeling the ocean waves weaving them some salty lullaby that would never come true.


End file.
